Episode 15 ~ Not the Princess, Apparently

She had just returned from the Farm and was desperate to rid herself of every trace of kobold viscera. At the inn’s front desk, they mentioned a spa. That sounded like exactly what she needed.

But when she walked in, it wasn’t the kind of place she expected. It was posh. Very posh. Smooth jazz played softly in the background. The elf at the front desk was immaculately dressed, not a strand of silver hair out of place.

“Regular or Deluxe?” the elf asked in a honeyed voice.

“Deluxe, I guess?” Calliope muttered, picking a piece of dead kobold out of her hair.

“Dragon Belly Bath, Snails, and Minotaur,” the elf said with a serene smile, as if that combination made perfect sense.

Calliope was led to a small room that looked like it belonged in a high-concept amusement park. “Down you go,” the elf said, gesturing to what appeared to be a polished, glowing slide.

What on earth had she gotten herself into?

She slid down—very warm, oddly silky—and landed in a perfectly round bath. Her clothes simply vanished, melted away by the heat. The place was quiet, humid, and unsettling in a strangely luxurious way. Kobly, stayed in his glass prison quietly.

And then… the bath worked its magic. Every ache, every sore spot from the Farm dissolved in the heat. Was she bathing in real dragon? Whatever this was, it was deeply strange—bordering on weird, maybe even a little terrifying. But undeniably effective.

As soon as the bath was over, it got weirder.

Suddenly, she was standing in a glass pod. Before she could process that, she noticed—snails. First on the glass. Then… on her.

She gritted her teeth. The space was too small, too enclosed. She could feel their slow, deliberate trails sliding across her skin. What kind of horror-movie spa treatment was this? Her brain screamed. This was straight out of that awful '80s horror flick Slugs—the one from 1988 that somehow got worse the more you watched it.

She tried to hold still, though every muscle in her body begged to flee. Her clockwork, heart tickied faster, her emotions were dulled, maybe from whatever potion they'd misted into the chamber, but it was still gross. So gross.

In her mind, she clung to the only thing that could carry her through.

"Here I go again on my own…"

If Whitesnake couldn’t save her, nothing could.

She clutched the little glass pendant around her neck—Kolby swirled lazily inside. The Whitesnake song still played on loop in her head, clear as day. She tried to distract herself. The Goonies. That helped for a moment. How did I even end up here? she wondered, questioning not just the spa, but perhaps her entire existence.

Then—oh gods—the snails reached her scalp.

That sensation would haunt her dreams forever.

But just when she thought she couldn’t endure another second, a sudden gust of enchanted wind swept through the pod. The snails vanished. She stood wrapped in a robe that hadn’t been there before, her skin suspiciously clean. One of the attendants gestured wordlessly toward the next room.

The room with the Minotaur.

She stood at the doorway, skeptical. Still humming Whitesnake in her head, because it was the only thing anchoring her sanity. She lay down on the massage bed, a comically small towel draped over her. She had no idea what kind of magic the Minotaur's hands wielded, but whatever it was, she melted under it. Boneless. Blissfully numb.

She didn’t remember going to bed. Only that she awoke in her own room, glowing like she’d been kissed by a goddess. Her skin had that smooth, polished gleam of a magical polish job. Her hair? Soft, perfect beach waves—Baywatch-worthy.

Eventually, she made it down to breakfast.

Arnos was already there, shoveling bacon into his mouth like it owed him money. Captain Tom John appeared shortly after, with a nod and a grinHe’d paid theme alot of money for their work with the Kolbolds..

"There's work for you at the barracks," he said casually.

They finished their meal, and as they walked through the early morning streets, Arnos was still crunching bacon and talking about rocks. Calliope half-listened, her mind still a little dreamy from her spa ordeal.

"Aye, lassie, rocks are fascinating," Arnos said, beard glinting with stray bacon grease. "You should see what Dwarves do with ‘em at parties."

Calliope blinked. “Wait… Dwarves can crack rocks with their buttcheeks?”

“Aye, lass. That they can.” Arnos didn’t even flinch. In fact, he seemed delighted she asked.

“So… does that mean they can crack a walnut? With their cheeks?” Her tone was somewhere between innocent curiosity and genuine confusion.

He grinned like a child on mischief-day. “Lass, they crack rocks. A walnut’s nothing.”

She popped a strawberry into her mouth as they neared the barracks. People were definitely staring. She had that strange spa-glow about her—like she'd walked out of a magical shampoo commercial.

“What about a macadamia?” she pressed. “That’s a hard nut.”

Arnos’s grin stretched wider. “Hardest I’ve seen was a diamond. Poor thing turned to glitter dust the moment he farted.”

Calliope choked on her strawberry. That gave a whole new meaning to diamond dust.

Inside the barracks, the very old captain waited for them. He spoke slowly—deliberately—so that even the air had time to listen.

“The festival is underway. It’s Festival Time…” He took a long breath. “…but we’re experiencing a problem. Water pressure in the sewer’s dropped.”

“Sewers during a festival. Lovely,” Calliope muttered under her breath.

“Very well, then,” Arnos said with a hearty nod. Then, taking a deep breath himself, added, “We’ll need supplies. Is there a market nearby?”

“There’s a market at the Festival,” the captain said, eyes drooping halfway shut. “You’ll find Alex there.”

Then, with a lazy flick of his wrist, he dismissed them.

And so, Arnos and Calliope found themselves wandering through the city of Zeenthalal, which had been fully transformed for the celebration. Streamers fluttered from rooftops, tents lined the streets, and somewhere, a lute player was playing slightly off-key. There was no official name for the event—just banners and signs that said “Tis Festival Time!” like that explained everything.

As they explored the makeshift market, a peculiar tent caught their eye. Mysterious, vaguely ominous, and trimmed with velvet, it had a hand-painted sign reading:

"Walls Mart"

A curious little man greeted them with a grin and a thick, hard-to-place accent. “Welcome to Walls Mart! Everything you didn’t know you needed!”

He sold them some leather—practical stuff for wand holsters—and then started pulling out increasingly questionable “premium leather items.” Calliope squinted. There were buckles. Straps. Things with zippers in the wrong places.

She turned to Arnos. “Why did you buy that?”

“Don’t question my methods,” Arnos said with the solemn dignity of a dwarf who had just purchased a suspiciously kinky leather harness.

Calliope shook her head. Weird little dwarf.

Then, as if they’d been there the whole time, Kuresh appeared. And Gideon. Just—bam—next to them, like continuity wasn’t a law they had to follow.

The sudden shift gave Calliope whiplash.

Gideon was examining a different kind of harness. One that magically latched onto her the moment she touched it. “Uh… guys? It won’t come off.” She tugged at the straps. “This is a problem.”

Kuresh, meanwhile, was already nose-deep in his ever-present, annoyingly dense book, humming to himself and ignoring the chaos.

Before anyone could protest, the owner of Walls Mart shouted, “NO REFUNDS!” then clapped his hands.

The entire stall folded up like a suitcase—tent, products, and all—and sprinted away down the street on mechanical legs.

Guards appeared moments later, blowing whistles and shouting, “There he is!”

And just like that, the mystery merchant was gone.

Calliope blinked. “Did… did that tent just run away?”

Arnos shrugged. “Festival Time.”

They picked up the last of the supplies they needed before heading to a final shop—one that sold exclusively plumbing tools. The sign read “Pipe Dreams” in enchanted copper lettering.

As they stepped inside, everyone turned to stare. Specifically at Calliope.

She groaned audibly. “No. No, no, no…”

The shelves were lined with fittings and flanges, p-traps and pipe joints, pressure valves and elbow couplings. It was too much.

Those cursed magic beans.

“I don’t want to be Super Mario!” she cried, holding up a bright chrome wrench. “I’m supposed to be the princess!”

The shop owner—a large elf with a magnificent mustache and a thick Eastern European accent—stepped out from behind the counter. His presence was strangely dignified, as though he had once unclogged the royal baths of a thousand-year empire.

“Plumbing,” he said, voice deep and full of pride, “is noble profession. Many wish to be hero. Few know that true hero fixes what others are too weak to face.”

He gestured with a grand sweep of his arm. “The leak. The clog. The hidden corrosion. These are enemies without mercy.”

Then, with a sparkle in his eye, he handed her something: a pink tool belt, complete with a tiny wrench, enchanted plumber’s putty, two vials of anti-gremlin sealant, and a retractable snake wand.

“You,” he said solemnly, “are ready.”

Calliope stared at it.

“...This is way too cute,” she muttered. “Why does it match my outfit?”

“You were chosen,” the elf said, very seriously.

They went to go find the guardsman named Alex now. The elven soldier was a gentle soul with a sweet disposition. They asked for the key to the sewers, and he handed it over generously, saying, “Be careful,” as they went down into the sewers.

It was everything she thought it was going to be: a swerve of damp with mildew, waste, and a smell she wished she had never smelled before. As they walked on the stones, they followed Arnos carefully. Calliope stopped at each damaged junction and began to fix them, crying the whole time about being a plumber.

That tool belt was like magic in her hands. She hated it—as she worked with steady hands.

Meanwhile, Arnos sniffed out something dangerous. It wasn’t kobolds. That dwarven nose was accurate. They came across a door he recognized, but it smelled of death and decay— a scent she wished she didn’t know.

“I was here last… this was where the Rave was,” Arnos said, his voice full of concern.

He and Kuresh went inside. Calliope stayed in the hall—she didn’t want to see whatever it was they found. Gideon stayed with her as they went to go fix more plumbing. When Arnos came out, he had a red piece of cloth in his hand and didn’t say much.

They continued on. Soon, Arnos found some creepy, cheaply tacked-up cloth. When he moved it aside, he was the only one to vanish behind it.

When he returned, he said he’d seen over a hundred goblins—and killed their bugbear king.

They traveled around a bit longer. Arnos found a few more goblins, and they had a rather quick bout of combat before finally returning to the surface. They asked Alex to guard the entrance and reported to the guards.

For some reason, though, the secretary locked them in Tom John’s office.